Sentences
by westpoints
Summary: [COMPLETE]Conversations start with sentences. They move on from there. Postfinale. All five now posted.
1. G'night

Yes, yes, I know, The Game, _but_. I finally got to watch the finale (thank you, TiVo), and I am _livid_ with Meredith. So no, I refuse to write an Addison being scarily nice to Meredith chapter right now.

Anyway, this is probably the shortest conversation I wrote, mostly because I also can't write a nice Derek characterization at the moment, either. **It operates on the hopefully true assumption that Meredith picks Finn**.

Disclaimer: I thankfully do not own Grey's Anatomy, because I'm on a writer-bashing-rampage right now.

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_"_Is Preston okay?"

Derek shook his head. "What?"

"Is Preston okay?" Addison asked again.

"Yeah, yeah he's fine." She looked at him. "Are you fine?"

"Of course I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," she said critically.

"What are you talking about, I'm fine." He tossed his jacket on the floor. She wanted to hang it up, but knew that it drove him insane when she did. It drove her insane when he left things on the floor.

"Okay then. You're fine."

"Beyond fine," he went on. "Perfect, in fact, absolutely **smashing**, let me tell you, because tonight was the first time I've felt okay in a very long time." She searched his face, but couldn't find any trace of humor.

"Derek, Izzie Stevens cut an LVAD cord to get a heart, her fiancé dies, and then she quits. Meredith Grey shows up with her vet, Preston Burke gets shot, and you're okay?" He frowns, but smiles at her.

"Sure," he said. He got into bed, and they lay on opposite sides. "Night." She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't. The paranoid feeling in her chest returned, but she couldn't ask, because it could be nothing, and she would look like a hovering fool. She turned out the light on her side of the bed and turned away from him.

"Night."

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Review, fool. 


	2. There it is

I got the hardest ones out of the way first. I really don't want to be nice to Meredith. For those of you who asked, I am **not** making this a Finn-Meredith-Derek-Addison fic. This is just a series of conversations between pairings within the show. I _will_ be writing an Addison-Finn centered fic when I'm done with this, though.

This is the first time I think I've written a sober Meredith. Yay?

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Grey's Anatomy.

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_"What were they?"_

Finn raised his eyebrows as he drove. Meredith sat in the passenger seat, still reeling a bit from the pitiful look Derek sent her when she chose Finn.

"What?"

"The plans," she said, remarkably composed. "You said you had plans, and they included me. What were they?"

"Okay, now you're gonna get all freaked out on me." He was smiling, though.

"No, I'm not," Meredith said. She failed to hear the light tone in his voice. "One of my best friends just violated like twenty billion medical codes, not to mention quite a few laws, and the fact that I was an accomplice to that might end with me being fired, not to mention the emotional crap that I'll have to help her with." She paused to take a breath. "I'm not saying that emotional stuff is crap, but it will feel like crap in the morning. Anyway, I might not have a job in a few days, and I want to know if your plans...involved me being employed."

"Meredith, most of my plans involve sunny beaches and very little employment whatsoever," he replied.

"No, I mean seriously."

"If I say 'seriously' will you stop acting all scary and damaged?" She glared at him.

"Yes."

"Okay then. Yes, seriously. Sunny beaches; Seattle has too much rain. I'm surprised you lasted this long."

"And I am not scary and damaged!" Finn looked at her for a second before returning his attention to the road. "Maybe a little." He didn't talk. "Okay, a lot. I'm scary. And damaged. And you still have plans."

"I still have plans." She fidgeted with her hands in silence for a few minutes. "Stop that, your nails are perfectly clean."

"I know," she said, slightly exasperated with herself. "My parents are divorced. Well, my mother kicked my father out, and then they got divorced." She looked critically at him before she continued. "I'm sharing."

"There it is."

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Review. 


	3. Don't say anything

By far, my favorite one to write, mostly because I liked the way Izzie's story line played out. I am, however, devastated that Denny died.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Grey's Anatomy.

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"I'll take her home." _

George stepped back. "Go see your bone chick. I'm taking Izzie."

"You can't. You don't even have a car."

"Well then I'll drive yours," Alex ground out through his teeth. Izzie stood quietly beside him. "Gimme your keys."

"Alex—"

"Give them to me!" Sighing, George relinquished his keys. "Thank you."

He carefully steered Izzie into the passenger seat. "Can you get your own seat belt?" She nodded. "All right then." He loosened his tie as he drove. Damn suits. He'd hated prom when he was in high school; the rented tuxedos never fitted him quite right, and the one he wore now was no different. There was a stain where Izzie had cried on his jacket, but he'd find a way to get it out. It wasn't his, that was all he could say about it. Focus on the road. Focus.

He stopped outside Meredith's house.

"Don't touch me," Izzie said, her voice raspy with disuse. Alex looked at her strangely.

"I wasn't aware that I was—"

"I know you're going to." She shook her head, the hysterical smile threatening to break out again. "I made him do it, you know."

"Do what?" She was laughing now, the giggling laugh that never seems stoppable. There were no tears, and Alex knew that she wouldn't have any more. "I made him let me stop his heart. God, what kind of a question was that? I loved him...so much. That I wanted to kill him to let him live. And it's, it's not like he wanted to, he wasn't about to take another man's heart, and I begged him, I begged, I cried and I begged, and he finally said yes, I made him take that heart, and now he's dead because I screwed up, because I didn't think about the goddamn blood clots, and all I can see is his face, and he's telling me about the bright light, and heaven, and all that, I can't see him, I can't see him telling me that he wanted me, Izzie, me, I can't, I can't. I try and I try and all I can see is Denny saying that he didn't want to be resuscitated, and I don't want to, dammit, I just want to see him asking me to marry him, and I _can't_." She was still laughing. "Isn't that ridiculous? It's insane." Alex didn't say anything, and she scrambled to fill the void. "I'm not supposed to be a surgeon, Alex. I'm just not. I know I can be, but I can't help it, I fall in love with patients and I steal organs and I fake deaths. I stole a guy's heart. Someone that I don't even know, I just. I just took it from him. What was he like, Alex?"

"I don't know. I never saw him." Izzie silently demanded more. "I guess. Dr. Hahn told me that he had some kids. I don't know, they were like three and five, I wasn't paying attention."

"Of course not," she sniffed.

"No," he said forcibly. "I wasn't paying attention because I had just gotten off the phone knowing that you stole that heart, and I knew that I had to get it for you because no matter how much you guys piss me off, you earned the heart. I had to get it. For the team. So no, I wasn't being an insensitive ass, I was thinking whether or not I was making the right decision, lying so you could have Denny, the guy who was twice the man I could ever be, that was why I didn't listen." He sighed. "Jesus, Izzie, all you did was cut a wire. We screwed ourselves over."

"Do you have warm hands?" she asked. Alex blinked. "I don't know, I was just. I don't want to argue any more. I'm going to be dismissed, and I don't care. So let's not argue. Just. Just hold my hand, please." He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. It wasn't a romantic gesture, just one of friendship and comfort. Because in the morning, when she woke up, she wouldn't be going to see Denny. Because he was, inexplicably, in love with her. Because she needed someone to help her and no one could help her, he grasped her hand. "Don't say anything, Alex, please.

"Don't say anything."

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Review. Please, I'm scrambling for George convo ideas. 


	4. I know

Surprisingly, this was the hardest one for me to write, mainly because I can't relate to either character. I discovered this when I tried to write the first line. _Needless_ to say, there were some difficulties.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Grey's Anatomy

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_"That's what you wouldn't tell me."_

George stared at the wall. "That what I couldn't tell you," he said. Callie noticed the change in words, but didn't point it out. He turned to look at her, but she knew he was just focusing on her ear. He had a habit of doing that when he was thinking. She thought it was endearing.

"What does that feel like? To love someone so much and just have it..." he closed his fist. "Gone? She was so happy. Did you see her, Callie? I never thought I would be so happy just because someone else was, but just watching her. Everything was okay. How does it, how does it even feel to be that happy, so happy that there really wasn't anything to put it down?" His eyes suddenly shifted to her face. "What does any of it feel like?"

She didn't respond. "Meredith had sex with Shepherd, didn't she? That's what you wouldn't tell me."

"George—"

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "I'm okay. I thought it would happen. I'm okay." She reached out and cupped his face. "I really, really am, Callie."

"It feels amazing," she said, after a long pause.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He sat quietly beside her, his hands perfectly still for a long time. It scared him to think that they could be so still. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay, George. I'm okay. I might not like your family, but I'm okay. I really, really am." They fell into a comfortable silence again, and even though he didn't ask, she knew. "She seemed so lost, so I helped her. She needed it. She couldn't help herself."

"I know," he said. For the first time, he felt happy about the whole Meredith thing. "She needs us." Callie sighed and lay down. "She needs us, Callie." She laced her fingers through his and smiled, just a little.

"I know," she whispered.

"I know."

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Review, children.


	5. We just wait

My apologies for not updating sooner-I came down with a fever-flu thing right right before exams and actually spent all my Grey's Anatomy time cramming for French. And other stuff, too. Anyway, Cristina is right up there next to Addison as my favorite character. And I swear to _Thor_ that I will update the Game after this weekend. I get to be a marshal, we have rehearsals, graduation is on a Saturday. I don't know why, but it just is.

That song by The Fray is stuck in my head. I got to see them live before they went mainstream radio, but it was at a hard rock, mosh pit concert, so I don't really like them. Get it out!

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Grey's Anatomy.

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_"Where were you?"_

Cristina fought hard not to flinch, but he felt it anyway.

"I, uh. I needed space." His mind seized her voice and latched onto it. If he concentrated, he could feel her trying to coax his fingers from their spastic clenching and unclenching.

"You seem to need that a lot these days," he said. The sound of his voice reached his ears, and he was surprised at its how dry it was. Cristina wasn't looking at him.

"I'm. I'm sorry," she said. He wet his lips and tried to speak normally. "How's Denny?" It felt a little better to his throat, but he could still tell that she could barely hear him. She didn't say anything. "Cristina?" With effort, he turned his head. He didn't know why, why it was so damn hard to move. He trained his eyes on her, and to his surprise, saw a tear creeping down her cheek.

He sighed heavily. "His body rejected the heart."

"No," she whispered too quickly. "He was stable. Izzie. She thinks—she thinks he got a blood clot. A couple minutes ago. And that's what. What killed him. The blood clot. Izzie said that the blood clot killed him, but the heart transplant went fine. It was. A blood clot killed him." Preston chose to ignore the slight wavering in her voice. "And I...I thought, I thought that with everyone here at the prom, that he would be okay. I told Izzie when she was changing that he would be okay."

"He got a lot of blood clots." He couldn't think of anything else to say. Cristina drew in a shaky breath. "What are we going to do?" he asked, not because he wanted to know, but because she needed to know.

"We...we wait," she said quietly. He could tell that she was tired. For the first time, she looked sad. Not disgruntled, just sad. "Okay," he whispered. For a second, his hand rested, outstretched. They didn't move for a minute. Just a minute, they waited, and he knew that she was trying. Just a minute, no one had died, no one had been shot. Just a minute, no one was a surgeon, no one was getting married, no one was quitting. Just a minute, they were humans, living breathing humans, waiting blindly for the end, and no one was talking or complaining or even wondering what the end was. Just a minute.

"We just. Wait."

-end-

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And I think this is really the end of season two, because they're all waiting, and not just for Meredith to choose Finn.

Ooo...you know what to do...

Review! I really didn't mean for that to rhyme.


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